


Living a Lie

by The_Asset6



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4x11, Canon Compliant, Ian POV of Baptism, M/M, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Asset6/pseuds/The_Asset6
Summary: His fault for living a lie, right?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46





	Living a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a meta/ficlet, but Ian wanted to talk. I found the timing of his outburst at Mickey in 4x11 rather interesting and, while rewatching, realized something had happened very recently that may have played a role in why it was that moment. This ficlet deals with that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Mickey finished getting ready.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

He put on his best shirt and jeans. He even took some extra time styling his hair so that his dad wouldn’t think he’d been anywhere besides at home with his… _family_.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

He left the house before noon and said he’d be back by lunch.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Ian didn’t believe him. Ian hated that he didn’t believe him.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

It took all of ten minutes to make the decision not to wait, like he hadn’t waited in the basement for Mickey to get married in the first place. Like he hadn’t waited at home for Mickey’s wife to go to work so they could act like nothing had changed for a few hours. Like he hadn’t waited to find out whether Mickey had brought Ian to his house because he cared or because it was too late to drop him at his own, regardless of the hammer that would have clocked him if he tried.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

The baptism was nice, he guessed. Formal. Fancy. Uptight, though Ian wasn’t sure how much of that was due to the ceremony and how much had to do with him showing up when Mickey specifically told him it would be easier if he didn’t. For him, of course. Not for Ian. Never for Ian. Not then, and not now. When someone had to bend until they broke, it was always Ian.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Were they really even a couple? Couples did stuff together. Couples held hands or went on dates or just _talked_ in public. They didn’t hide in the house or stagger their departures so no one would realize they were together. They didn’t live a double life where they had a kid and a wife and a boyfriend who could never be in the same room at the same time lest someone come to the correct conclusion. They didn’t say they’d be home by lunch when there was a whole after-party and dinner planned at the Alibi.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

What would have happened if Ian had stayed put like a good little mistress? It had been a while since he spent time with his siblings, between being away and work. Half of his shit was still crumpled at the bottom of his duffel bag. There was laundry to do and dishes to clean and a journal full of half-assed ideas that he desperately needed to flesh out in greater detail before they flew from his mind to be replaced by new ones. How was he supposed to do that, though, when Mickey was a few blocks away being a good husband, father, and son? How could he concentrate on anything important when Mickey was undoubtedly spending every second convincing himself that he could forget that Ian existed purely to maintain the façade?

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Maybe he wouldn’t have to convince himself. Maybe he _could_ forget, even for a few hours. Lucky him. Ian never could.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

It didn’t matter that this was his day off. It didn’t matter that he could have been doing anything else with his afternoon besides digging peanut shells out from beneath his fingernails and getting glared at by some Russian hooker across the room. Mickey was here. Mickey was asking him if he wanted to be here, but _Mickey was here_ , so what kind of question was that?

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

If Mickey wanted him to go, then he’d go. _Actually_ go. Because he couldn’t do this again. He’d been so sure that Mickey finally understood the other night when he said—

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

“I’m not lying to you.”

“Everyone else?”

“Who gives a shit about everybody else? What fucking difference does it make if I lie to them?”

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

He didn’t get it. After everything he said, he still didn’t get it. _Why_ didn’t he get it?!

“Because you’re not free.”

“Ian, what you and I have _makes_ me free. Not what these assholes know.”

As if it were that easy. As if there weren’t chains on his wrists and ankles, their ends swaddled in white satin blankets and a too-tight dress.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

As if another didn’t latch onto his neck and yank as soon as the door opened. Then Mickey was gone, grabbing for a baby he didn’t give a shit about so he could keep pretending that _Ian_ was the one who didn’t mean anything to him for the audience. Ladies and gentlemen, an encore of the wedding and that day in his room where the world burned to ashes while two words would have saved them. A standing ovation for the star leading man, please. Brilliant performance.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Kev knew. No one had told him, but he _knew_. He plied Ian with alcohol that didn’t do nearly enough to make it hurt less this time than it did before. Because he’d really let himself believe things would be different— _they_ would be different.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

He’d thought they could be together, that Mickey had come looking for him because he loved Ian and wanted to start over. He wasn’t there when Ian woke up, but he was that night. And the next day. And the next. He hadn’t left, and Ian... He’d thought for _sure_ that things were different when he’d said—

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

But they weren’t. They were the same broken glass and rusted nails Ian had walked over for two years, hoping against hope that the sun might look a little different when it rose someday. They were the same manacles that dragged Mickey to his father then Svetlana then the baby then to his father again because there _was_ no Ian here. He was invisible.

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

He’d never be the one Mickey chose. Money for his conniving, blackmailing wife came first. His psychotic dad’s expectations that rarely mattered because he was always in prison came first. A baby who meant so little to him that Mickey hadn’t even wondered what his _name_ was or whether he had winter clothes came first. 

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Mickey would never be free like Ian was. Mickey would never live his life the way he wanted like Ian did. Mickey would never let himself love Ian enough for it to matter how much Ian loved him. 

_His fault for living a lie, right?_

Ian’s too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For more on my writing, Shameless, and assorted fandom madness, I'm on [Tumblr](https://pathoftheranger.tumblr.com/)!


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